The Darkness
by Pureauthor
Summary: /FE8/ She called it the darkness because, in the end, that was really all it was. And she knew that without it, she'd have been broken a long time ago.


The Darkness

(X)

In 'No Longer Alone' I've been paying a bit of attention to how Amelia would feel about being forced to fight against soldiers of Grado once she joins up with your own side. This story, by contrast was intended to focus more on the psychological effect of being stuck fighting in a war, which is invariably a scarring and painful experience.

I hope this is a good read.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

(X)

Had it been like this before?

Amelia didn't know. Amelia _couldn't remember._

Walking back towards the camp, covered in mud and dirt and blood, her armour scarred and dented, her uniform torn and ripped, Amelia felt herself return. She felt the darkness around her lift, coalescing and seeping back into shadowy recesses of her mind and consciousness.

It wasn't menacing. It wasn't threatening. It was more that… that it just _wasn't_.

The darkness. People had always associated the darkness with bad things, hadn't they? With the unknown, with menace, with secrets and plots and uncertainty. Even the robes the druids wore, cloaking themselves from the eyes of the others, seemed to give credence to the idea of shadowed, nameless horror.

But the darkness offered protection too. Just as you could not peer into darkness, so too you could hide yourself in it, wrapping yourself in its soft cocoon, your shame, weakness and sorrow buried deep within where no one could ferret it out.

And so Amelia had begun to refer to it as the darkness, for though within it was a miasma of horror and decay that she couldn't look at, couldn't _think_ about, without wanting to retch, so too in its solitude it offered a measure of comfort, a grounding anchor. And in the end, there really wasn't anything else to call it.

Without the darkness, she would have been driven beyond the brink of insanity, of _that_ she was sure. Without it, she would have been forced to confront each and every moment of the war, each and every moment of the horror, of bodies bursting open like rotting fruit, of blank, staring eyes, of screams and pleas for mercy and death, of the foul, coppery stench of blood pervading everywhere, everything.

And so, as Amelia once more marched into the battle, as she faced down the first of her foes charging at her, weapon raised, she felt the darkness rise up once more, filling her mind with nothingness.

And she welcomed it. She let herself retreat into a tiny corner of her mind, and let the darkness take over, directing her body to fight and kill and maim.

* * *

There was no other way.

"Hey, Amelia?"

"Huh? Oh, Franz! What is it?"

"Are you okay?"

"Wh – why would you ask that?"

"You seem kind of… I dunno, dazed. Stunned. You've been staring out into nothing for the past few minutes."

She grimaced and tried to hide her discomfort. "Well, I guess I'm just tired. We _have_ been a lot of battles lately, haven't we?"

Franz sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "That's true. You're still not used to the constant fighting, are you?"

Amelia let out a derisive snort. "And you've got a whole, what, two months over me? Please teach me how to keep up with you, _sir_."

"Well, first we'll teach you how to hold you lance right. After _that_ we can work on the endurance."

And as the two of them laughed, Amelia buried the horror away, knowing that it would rise again soon. But she could forget it now, if only for a moment.

* * *

At times, when the darkness lifted, when the world reverted into focus and she was left there, panting, holding a bloodied spear and looking over the bodies of the freshly killed, the last few moments would storm through her mind with stark clarity, where she could see every detail as it had played out, feel the sweaty, confused heat…

And she would double over, fighting the urge to throw up, heaving for air as the world around her swirled in and out of focus.

Sometimes she wondered if others had the darkness too. Neimi seemed far too delicate to handle prolonged exposure to war without going insane, Ewan and Ross were, for all their bravado, no more accustomed to the horrors of war than she was, and Franz... well, she couldn't picture the smiling, gentle knight as a remorseless butcher on the battlefield.

And for that matter, what about the veterans? What about people like General Duessel, who'd fought in countless campaigns long before she'd ever grasped a weapon. When the fighting started, did they simply shut down too?

At times, she felt so desperately lonely about it that she almost went to find someone, _anyone_, to blurt the question out to, to ask if they felt the same way, if they understood what she was going through.

Almost. But she didn't. She couldn't. What if they simply stared at her, looks of blank puzzlement in their eyes? What if they thought she was weak, wasn't strong enough to continue to be allowed on the battlefield? And what if they thought she was… well, mad? She couldn't be sure. It was too big a risk, and so she remained silent, locked in a paralyzing haze of her own doubt and indecision.

And there with her too, lurking in the edges, mocking her with silent laughter, was the darkness.

* * *

"Hey, Amelia?"

"Hm?" The young lancer looked over to her friend and comrade-in-arms. "What's the matter, Franz?"

The young knight sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Amelia, have you ever wondered… what would you do if there was no war?"

"You mean the current war between Grado and Renais? Well, I'd probably still be in training back in-"

"No, that's not what I'm talking about." Franz shook his head. "I meant, if there was no such thing as war at all. No battles, no fighting, every nation at peace with each other. They wouldn't need soldiers anymore, obviously, so… what would you do instead?"

She shrugged. "I… well, what about you? You came up with the question, so you must have some sort of idea in mind."

The knight chuckled. "Yeah, well, I guess I'd be… well, when I was younger I had a small garden I used to tend. It turned out pretty well too, but after I joined the knights I didn't really have time to keep it any more. So, if I couldn't be a knight, I guess I'd go back to gardening, growing herbs and medicines, that sort of thing. Just the sort of thing for weak minds and strong backs."

Amelia pursed her lips. She _could_ imagine Franz tending the fields, his gentle nature coupling well with his natural strength for this sort of thing.

"But what about you, Amelia? If you couldn't be a soldier, what other path would you take?"

"Huh? I, uh…" She paused and shook her head. "I… don't know."

* * *

As time went on, Amelia began to wonder if the darkness was not beginning to grow, to creep, insidious, from the back of her mind to tainting everything about her. From waking to sleep, she could feel the darkness, almost a physical, oily presence, seeping along, colouring her perception of everyone, everything.

The changes were subtle. Contemplating the horrors and misery of war no longer seemed akin to forcing oneself underwater, and being held there until choking agony suffused her chest, where she had to fight to force air into her lungs.

Nightmare visions that plagued her sleep began to fade, terrors that she could never bear to face before slowly began to lose their grip over her. Was she simply getting used to it all?

Slowly, she could come to look to the next, inevitable fight without the twisting sensation in her gut; it was instead replaced with a core of weary determination, simply to continue fighting for as long as it was necessary.

And as she marched to battle, and her foe bore down on her, eyes blazing with malice, Amelia didn't feel the darkness rise up, pushing her to the back of her mind, and taking over the fight.

No, she instead, dodged, weaved, parried, and struck her opponent down, feeling the warm blood gush out from the wound and coating her arms, feeling the weight of the body as it slammed to the dusty earth with a muted thudding sound. She heard the shouts and screams and cries, smelled the stench of blood and fire.

The darkness had woven itself with her so tightly that now there was no difference between the two. She could fight, kill, and maim with utter clarity, instead of having to retreat, a broken shell of a person, into the terror lurking at the edge of her consciousness.

There was no longer any darkness. Or perhaps, more accurately, the darkness had so soaked itself in that there was nothing _but_ the darkness, permeated into her entire being.

And the two of them continued to fight.

* * *

"Hey."

She turned her head to the side, a tiny upwards quirk of her lips forming as she spotted Franz walking up to her. "Hey." She responded.

"How are you feeling?"

She closed her eyes and looked away. "It still hurts. They told me… they told me that I won't be able to fight, ever again. Just walking is going to be a big enough challenge."

"I… I see." Amelia perked her ears at that. Was that relief in his voice?

"You sound happy."

"I'm just glad. It could have been a lot worse." She heard a creaking sound as the knight settled himself into a chair next to her.

"A lot worse." Amelia repeated as she hugged herself under the thin sheets. "I'm a cripple, Franz. Being a soldier was the only goal I ever had in life, no matter how terrible I was at it in practice. What else is there for me now?"

The knight didn't say anything for a long while, before laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Amelia… remember that conversation we had, about what we'd do if we weren't soldiers?"

"Yeah. I told you I didn't know. And I still don't."

"Yes, well, I was worried about it for a while, because… Amelia, don't take this the wrong way, but you weren't cut out to be a warrior. I mean, you can fight, sure, but you always lacked the certain something that would help you past the final step. And, more recently… well, in battle you seemed… sick. As if forcing down the revulsion, forcing yourself to fight and kill… it was hurting you somehow. And yet you could tell me honestly that you never had any aspirations other than to become a member of the army."

She didn't reply.

"War can strengthen some people, and it can break others as well. Amelia, I… I don't want to see you get broken." He looked away, as if ashamed to admit it. "And that's why… that's why I'm kind of glad that you won't be fighting anymore."

Silence descended upon the two of them for a long while, until finally Franz stood and made to leave. Turning to her, he opened his mouth and spoke softly once more.

"If you really don't know what to do with your life after this… well, I've no reason to think you'll accept, but Forde and I… we'll always have a place for you in our home." And thus saying, he stepped out of the tent, back into the brightness of day.

After a while, Amelia closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

And slowly, ever so slowly, the darkness began to recede.

* * *

I'm not sure if this story is _too_ mindscrewy or not mindscrewy enough.

Thanks for reading, please review.


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